


Reflecting Upon the Montague

by being_alive



Series: Tybalt, Tybalt [6]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: F/M, Montague!Reader, POV Third Person, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: "Montague," he says and the girl in front of him begins to turn around. She turns around completely and he sees that while she is a Montague, she is nothisMontague."What do you want?" The girl asks, meeting his disappointed gaze with a glare."Nothing," he says, turning and walking away, dejected.---A companion toIn the Night, set in Tybalt's point of view.





	Reflecting Upon the Montague

**Author's Note:**

> When I was writing this, I was worried it wouldn't reach 1000 words, but I see now my fears were actually unfounded. Oh well.

"Montague," he says and the girl in front of him begins to turn around. She turns around completely and he sees that while she is a Montague, she is not _his_ Montague. 

"What do you want?" The girl asks, meeting his disappointed gaze with a glare.

"Nothing," he says, turning and walking away, dejected. Not long ago, he probably would've picked a fight. Not long ago, he wouldn't have approached a Montague for anything but a fight. Now, however, he just sighs and walks back to his home, in the doors and up the stairs to his room. He supposes he could turn around and look for her more, but it's starting to get dark and she wouldn't want anything to do with him besides.

The first, second, and third times he saw her, she'd looked at him, her eyes, her beautiful eyes, full of pain and anger, but the last few times she'd simply walked away, to find Mercutio and Benvolio or some other Montague and talk with them instead. Tybalt wrenches his bedroom door open with perhaps more force than strictly necessary, but he doesn't care, slamming it shut just as hard.

 _You love her_ , a small voice in his head dares to say, but he angrily shuts it out, bending to unlace his boots, roughly untying the knots and loosening the laces before kicking them off and away. He doesn't love her, doesn't know her well enough to love her, didn't even know her name until a week ago, and she is a Montague besides and he a Capulet.

 _But what does the son of hate and bitterness know of love?_ , Tybalt muses to himself, sitting down on his bed.

He loved his mother, who died when he was but a boy, giving birth to a child who lived mere hours longer than she did.

He loved his father, or at least he thinks he did.

He loves his aunt and his uncle, as much as he can love them.

He loves Juliette, more than a cousin, more than a brother, more than a lover.

But her, the Montague? He doesn't know. Even if he did, he and she would never be able to be together. It's like the Montague had asked him, what would his aunt think? What would his uncle think? What would Juliette think? What would all of his other cousins and relations think? 

He'd be the laughingstock of the Capulets, no doubt. Tybalt of the Capulets, ready to fight any Montague who crossed his path, and finding himself with unexplainable feelings for one instead. He lays back on his bed, recalling his answer to the Montague.

_Fuck what they'd think. I haven't been able to get you out of my head._

Tybalt groans, rubbing his temples, wishing he could hate her the way he's supposed to, the way he's expected to, the way he was raised to. He's not sure what makes her different, what made him decide to fuck her that first night in the gardens instead of chasing her away, what made him go back to her later.

What he feels must just be lust, he decides, except he's known lust before and this isn't that and that isn't this. He's been in relationships based purely on lust before and didn't feel anything like this before, because he knew there'd be another girl not far behind the one he left or the one that left him. While it's true that he desires the Montague, he finds that he doesn't want another girl this time.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Tybalt?" He asks himself with a bitter laugh, his fingers moving from his temples into his hair, gripping it tightly in frustration. He's angry, angry at her for making him feel this way, angry at himself for ruining this. He wants to throw something in his anger, wants to hurt someone, but most of all, he wants her, the Montague. He briefly considers going out and finding a girl, any girl, to fuck, just to see if that would do anything to help his dilemma, but deep down, he knows it wouldn't because it wouldn't be _her_ , so he doesn't. He simply relaxes his grip on his hair and remains on his bed, thinking of her, of all the things he wants to say but doesn't quite know how to say. Before long, his mind has veered off into a completely different direction as he thinks of the Montague, of how she smiles, of how her lips felt against his, of how it felt to be inside of her. He can feel his blood starting to rush downwards and his pants starting to tighten as his cock hardens. 

Tybalt knows there's really only one thing for him to do, since he can't stop thinking about her and he doesn't want to find some other girl else to fuck. He moves both of his hands down from in his hair to the first button on his shirt, unbuttoning it and then the rest the same way the Montague did, that first time in the gardens, before moving onto his pants. He undoes them and his cock springs free, already hard just from thoughts of her. Closing his eyes, he wraps his hand around his cock and begins to stroke himself. His mind fills with thoughts of the Montague, with memories of the past times he fucked her, memories of the time in the gardens and the time in the streets. 

Tybalt wishes that there had been more times, but for now, the memories of those two times are enough to fuel his desire. He wants the Montague, wants her to be here with him, wants it to be her hand on his cock instead of his own. He focuses on the last time, the time in the streets, as he strokes himself, thinking back to how her breasts looked once he'd pulled the front of her dress down, how it felt to have her on top of him, how it felt when she came around his cock, as he strokes himself harder and faster. Before long, his hips are lifting off of the bed as he comes into his hand with the picture of her face behind his eyelids, biting his bottom lip to prevent a moan from coming out. 

Tybalt lays back again, stretching out, breathing heavily.

It is then that he realizes that for the first time in a very long time, he's reached orgasm without a single thought of Juliette, without even a trace of her in his mind. The realization shocks him so much that he's not even sure what to do with the information, instead simply staying laid back, staring up at the ceiling. He wishes he could tell the Montague this, but he's not sure there's a way to bring this topic up that wouldn't end awkwardly. Once the shock of his realization wears off somewhat, Tybalt grabs a throw off of his bed with his clean hand and begins to wipe himself clean.

Not long after he's completely finished wiping away the evidence of what he's been doing when someone knocks on his door.

"One moment," Tybalt calls out, tossing the throw onto the floor before tucking himself back into his pants and doing them back up. 

Whoever's outside of his door simply knocks harder in response. Groaning in annoyance, Tybalt swings his legs off of the bed and stands up, buttoning his shirt back up as he walks to the door. After he's finished with the last button, he opens the door and sees one of his aunt's servants, the good-looking man that always brings his aunt more wine.

"What do you want?" Tybalt asks the man, leaning against the doorframe.

"Lord and Lady Capulet request your presence in Lord Capulet's study," the man replies, his head tilted slightly back in order to look Tybalt in the eyes.

"Did they say for what?"

"No, just that it's urgent," the man replies after a moment. Tybalt nods, his heart dropping to his stomach because he's sure that they've found out about either his feelings for Juliette or his relationship with the Montague, and pushes past his aunt's servant into the hallway. He's halfway to the study when he realizes he neglected to put his boots back on, but he's already made it this far without them so he continues on. 

Tybalt stops outside of the door and raises a shaking hand to knock on the door. He does so and mere seconds later his uncle is calling out, "Come in."

Tybalt does so, shutting the door behind him, and the first thing he sees is Juliette, who looks like she's been crying. Next, he sees his aunt and his uncle, his aunt with rage on her face and a glass of wine in her hand and his uncle, who suddenly looks very, very tired.

"Has something happened?" Tybalt asks, crossing the room to stand behind where Juliette sits in a chair. He rests his hands on her shoulders and she looks up at him, wide brown eyes fleetingly meeting his before she looks away, back towards Lord and Lady Capulet.

"Tell him what you've done," Lord Capulet says to Juliette, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Juliette looks back up at Tybalt, unexplainable fear in her eyes. He looks down at her in confusion, his eyebrows drawing together.

"I've gotten married," she says quietly, after a moment. Shock hits him straight through his heart, jealousy that he knows is irrational coiling in his stomach as he forces out, "To whom?"

Before Juliette even has a chance to answer, his aunt is downing her wine in two gulps and replying, "To a Montague dog."

"His name is Roméo," Juliette retorts, her eyes meeting her mother's.

Lord Capulet sighs and says, "Roméo isn't a bad young man, the problem is simply that he is a Montague."

Rage floods through him first, rage because he knows Roméo and knows that he doesn't deserve Juliette, in fact, far from it, but then relief begins to trickle in, relief because he's not the only one to have fallen for the charms of a Montague. He realizes then that the unexplainable fear in her eyes moments ago actually has a very explainable reason, that Juliette was afraid of him, of how he'd react and the realization makes him feel sick.

"Well, that's certainly news," Tybalt manages after several moments have passed, trying to keep his voice neutral. Not long ago, he would've been immediately at arms, dashing out to find Roméo and making him suffer. Now, however, everything has changed, all because of _her_ , because while Tybalt may be many things, a hypocrite he is not.

"That's putting it lightly," Lord Capulet says, surprise evident in his voice at Tybalt's seemingly nonchalant response. Tybalt then removes his hands from Juliette's shoulders, before walking around to the front of her chair and kneeling there as he asks, "Why Roméo, of all the men in Verona?"

"I love him," Juliette says simply, her eyes meeting his once more. Her words hit Tybalt like a slap in the face, but at the same time he can't fault her because of his own conflicted feelings towards his Montague.

 _Why couldn't you have loved me the way you do him?_ A small voice in Tybalt's head asks, and part of him wishes he could ask it aloud, but he can already guess her answer, that she's only ever thought of him as a cousin and perhaps a brother and Roméo is Roméo, charming and boyishly handsome and without the famous, or perhaps infamous, temper of Tybalt. Tybalt simply nods, not trusting his words to come out right, and stands up. As soon as he does, there's an urgent knocking at the door of the study.

"What is it?" Lord Capulet calls out.

"Urgent news from the Prince, my lord."

"Come in, then," Lord Capulet replies and the door swings open, revealing one of the Prince's servants. Lady Capulet and Tybalt exchange a confused glance before she looks back at the servant and Tybalt looks down at Juliette, silently asking her if she knows what this is about but she looks as confused as he probably does.

"The Prince has decided that the marriage of Roméo Montague and Juliette Capulet is in fact a valid marriage and in order to decrease the amount of fighting in Verona and possibly end the feud as well that other Montagues and Capulets should follow their example and that the two families should intermarry," the Prince's servant says and then takes a deep breath. After he finishes, all goes quiet in the room until Lady Capulet drops her nearly empty glass of wine in shock. Tybalt looks down at Juliette and sees on her face joy so radiant that he knows he won't punish Roméo in any shape or form for this indiscretion.

Lord Capulet simply stands where he has been, his mouth hanging open in surprise. It is then that Tybalt realizes what this means for him, as an unmarried Capulet. He'll have to marry a Montague. Not so long ago, he would've been disgusted at the prospect, but now there's _her_ and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps marrying a Montague isn't quite so horrible, as long as she'll have him.

His aunt turns to him, fury in her eyes as she orders, "Don't just stand there, go do something about this!"

Juliette looks at him with pleading eyes and Tybalt nods, fighting back a smile, because he knows exactly what he's going to do.


End file.
